Page 6 of A Vow of Wrath and Ruin

“Alright. Let’s find my sister, and then we’ll find her a worthy suitor.”

“Very good, my Lord. I will work on finding her right away. In the meantime, I suggest sending one of your diplomats to run the Court of Sorrows. Perhaps my second, Mythra?”

“Very well,” Tharan sighed.

Hopper nodded before grabbing a doughnut from the assortment of sweet treats adorning the table.

Tharan turned to me, a gleam in his eyes. “And what about my Hand? Do you have anything to report?”

His fingers mindlessly flipped through the papers in front of him, and I couldn’t help but imagine the way they slid in and out of me earlier in the morning, glistening with my arousal. A quake ran through my core, and I crossed my legs to keep from feeling anything else.

“Aelia?” Tharan asked.

I snapped out of my fantasy, sitting up straight in my chair. “Um, yes.”

Tharan gave me a devilish wink.

I shuffled through the papers in front of me, hiding my flaming blush. I couldn’t read a word on them—too busy shoving the image of Tharan’s head between my legs out of my mind—but they bought me time to gather my thoughts.

“It seems there’s been some cases of root rot in the south. They’re requesting a healer.”

“Send one. Send two. What else?”

I shuffled through the correspondence. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of an indigo-hued letter adorned with the silver seal of the Court of Storms: Lightning striking a tree.

“You have a letter from the Court of Storms.” I slid my fingernail under the seal, cracking it in two. Scanning the contents, I let out a sigh of relief. “It’s a letter of thanks for your support.”

Hopper swallowed his mouthful of food.

“Ha! Looks as though we’ve got ourselves an ally.”

Tharan’s hand found mine underneath the table. The feeling of his soft skin on mine sent shock waves through my veins.

“It is all thanks to Aelia.”

“Yes.” Hopper excused himself as did the Masters of Coin and Culture.

“Our ranks are not what they need to be to handle a full-scale war. I’ll need your help to make more Hunters,” Sumac said.

I knitted my brow, my chest tightening.

“What does that entail?”

Tharan squeezed my hand.

“It is a ceremony. I will have to pull them from a sacred tree deep in the forest. It has not been done for an age.”

My eyes flitted between Sumac and Tharan.

“But isn’t Sumac part of the Hunt?”

“She is. Sumac is one of the very few Hunters who were born naturally. It’s rare, but it does happen. Sylph mature around the age of fifty. That’s when her abilities became visible. She had a natural talent for battle that only a member of the Hunt could possess.”

Sumac’s cheeks flushed.

“It is an honor to serve alongside such fearsome warriors.”

Tharan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

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